Incursio
by sigma-epsilon
Summary: "In the midst of life, we are in death. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." - The Book of Common Prayer


Fandom: Castle

Type: Multi-Chapter (Prologue)  
Length: 1,000+  
Genre: Sci-fi/Romance  
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Castle. This is for fun, not profit.

Summary: "In the midst of life, we are in death. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." - The Book of Common Prayer

Author's Note: OH GOD WHAT AM I DOING. I'm literally writing this as it comes to me. Fair warning, there might be some fair gaps in between updates.

* * *

The _snap-buzz-crack_ of a fluorescent tube losing its vacuum startles Castle into consciousness. Sitting up too fast, he almost rolls off the side of the gurney he's on before finding his balance. It takes a few moments for his eyes to focus, irises expanding to compensate for the dim light in the hallway.

The air smells stale and slightly of ammonia, and Castle has to inhale through his mouth until his olfactory sense adjusts to the unpleasant stench. Below him, the tile floor – at one point clean and reflective, he thinks absently – is marred by scuff marks, streaks of dirt, blood, and a few other substances he'd rather not identify, and littered with empty saline bags, needles, gloves, and other medical waste.

Except for the droning hum of the ceiling lights, the rustle of his hospital gown, and his breath, it's completely silent. He scans the hallway up and down, searching for signs of life.

He finds none.

Castle moves to stand, but something resists the movement of his left leg. He reaches down, and feels a coarse fabric wrapped around his ankle.

A restraint.

His heart rate spikes. Someone strapped him to a gurney?

Panic rises within him, but with all the effort he can muster – which, considering the circumstances, is not a lot – he quashes it, sucking in a breath and exhaling though his nose.

Castle lifts his right leg, but finds no matching cuff. He scoots forward until he reaches the bottom end of the gurney, dangling his free leg off the side. The cuff on his left ankle is simply heavy duty Velcro – _meant for keeping the body still during surgery, not trapping the patient_, he thinks with a small measure of relief – which he promptly rips off, unshackling himself. The chain connecting the cuff to the bed's framework clinks as it swings down.

He takes a moment to breathe, ensuring his balance, and then slides off, bare feet touching the icy floor for the first time. A chill runs up his spine, and he doesn't bother repressing a shiver that is only partially due to the cold.

"Hello?" he calls out, throat scratchy and dry. Castle swallows what little saliva is in his mouth and tries again. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

There's no answer save for the echo of his own voice.

He takes a couple of tentative steps forward, straining his eyes and ears. Surely, there must be _someone_ else here, right? "Is anyone here? Hello?" He yells again, hoping for some response, any response.

Nothing.

For the first time since he woke up, Castle registers an odd sensation. There is a slight tingle running up and down his arms and legs, most prominent in his fingers and toes. He also feels it at the back of his neck, nearly unnoticeable.

Thinking it's due to lack of circulation, he begins to rub his hands up and down his arms, squeezing the muscles to get the blood flowing. The sensation persists, even after a few moments of vigorous rubbing. Castle's brows furrow, anxiety bubbling up in his gut.

"What in the world…" he mumbles, more confused than ever.

He makes fists with his hands, curls his toes, and rolls his neck, but to no avail. The tingling remains constant. Castle lifts an arm. His skin is pale, washed out so completely in the harsh ambiance that it matches the starchy, faded gown hanging loosely on his shoulders. Partial darkness prevents him from examining in detail, but as he twists and flexes, he thinks he can almost see… something.

Something out of the ordinary. Something that wasn't there before.

As the pieces fit themselves together in his mind, his stomach sinks to the ground.

_I'm in a hospital, or somewhere with medical supplies. So far as I can tell, it's been torn apart by something or someone. I'm in a gown, and was strapped to a gurney in the middle of an empty hallway._

_I'm alone. _

_Something about me has changed. _

_What the hell is going on?_

Just then, a hollow clang resonates from somewhere behind him. He whips around, eyes wide, but sees nothing. A piercing screech follows it, as if two metallic surfaces are rubbing up against each other. His breath quickening, Castle begins to jog away from the dissonance, legs and torso protesting uncomfortably. He passes several doors along the way, some ajar, some closed. Every room that he can see into is dark and uninhabited.

The sounds behind him continue. Horrible, violent sounds emanating from God-knows where, caused by God-knows what.

He doesn't feel like sticking around to find out.

The hallway splits into a T up ahead, with a reception area off to one side. Charts and pens are scattered across the floor and faux-marble ledge. A few ceiling tiles have been knocked loose, revealing insulation, wires, and ductwork. A computer monitor has been knocked off the desk, hanging precariously by a cord a few inches above the tiles, and all the other screens are black. Castle stumbles forward, scrambling to find a phone.

Locating one, he picks up the receiver, but hears no dial tone. Moving to an undamaged computer, he wiggles the mouse and taps several keys on the keyboard. It doesn't respond. The screeching and clanging have increased from intermittent noise to a constant, grating din.

Seeing that all forms of communication have been disabled, Castle moves back into the hallway, looking desperately for a way out. Relief courses through him as he spots an emergency stairwell at the end of the hallway to his left. The debris in this one has been cleared somewhat, creating a clear path to its end.

By now, some of the discomfort in his legs has dissipated, allowing him to move faster. His hospital gown flutters behind him as he runs, snapping gently against the skin of his back. The small part of his mind not currently occupied with escaping finds it odd how quickly the stiffness in his muscles has abated. Or how much stamina he seems to have, especially after an undetermined amount of time lying idle on a cot.

With unknown danger threatening him in the present, however, Castle chooses to ignore these red flags in favor of _getting the hell out of there_.

Within seconds, he's reached the door to the stairwell. Pulling experimentally on the handle, he finds it unlocked and easy to open. The stairwell itself is windowless, draped in blackness aside from the pale rectangle of light cast by the flickering fluorescent tubes in the hallway ceiling. Pausing for only a moment to listen for any potential threats, he slips through, glancing at the floor number posted on the wall, barely able to make it out.

_5. _

He finds the handrail and takes the steps two at a time, not taking time to analyze his newfound agility. The flats of his feet slap against the concrete, the sound echoing throughout the narrow space. Thankfully, the awful noises have been muffled, which tells Castle that he's putting valuable space in between himself and the source. He counts the floors by running his fingers along the walls, subtracting a number each time he encounters steel instead of cinderblock.

_4._

_3._

_2._

_1._

On what he hopes is the first floor landing, Castle pats the surface of the doorframe until he finds the handle, opening the door as quietly as possible and peering through the crack.

The first natural light he's encountered today temporarily blinds him, followed instantly by a frigid gust of wind that nearly blows the hospital gown off of his body. The landscape before him is barren and flat, unchanging save for a chainlink fence about fifty feet away topped with barbed wire. He lifts his arm to shield his face as he makes his way out the door, the soles of his feet aching as he tentatively makes his way forward down the concrete steps and on to the unforgiving terrain. His eyes scan around him, looking for a car, a road, a person, _anything _–

And that's when he notices it.

Silver stripes, as thin as sewing thread, traverse the length of his arm, from his fingertips to his shoulders. Looking down, he sees the same stripes on his feet and legs. They reflect the cold light of the sun, which hangs close to the horizon.

Fear and adrenaline spike his blood, shooting fire through his veins and dread into his stomach. Castle whips around, staring at the building he just exited. It stands twelve stories high, and is as unremarkable and gray as the landscape in which it's located.

_Something happened to me in there. Someone did something to me in _there.

_What's happened to me?_

_Oh God, what's happened to me?_

Now, anger joins the mix of emotions, and Castle feels his extremities begin to tremble. Without a solid plan other than to _get away_, he starts to run. Faster, faster. The glacial wind whips the flimsy cotton, but he takes no notice.

He registers a sputtering roar, like that of a jet engine, and turns just in time to see a glint of metal.

Then the building is engulfed in white light, as intense as the surface of the sun. Castle is thrown backwards by the blast, blinded and deafened.

He has time for one last thought before impacting the ground.

_Kate. _


End file.
